bombers armed with stand-off weapons.
On the screen the lines showing the Backfire flight paths were altering.
The bombers were changing course, driving west now away from the Norwegian
coast. They were still well to the north of the carrier battle group, but if
they turned again they would be in range in no time.
“Tell the Boss to ready the double-nuts bird too,” he ordered. “And find
me an RIO. I’m going up with them!” He stood up, looking across at Bannon.
“Call Owens to relieve me here, Mr. Bannon. And pass on the SOSUS info to
Magruder in 704. Let’s get moving, people!”
He looked down at the screen again and prayed they wouldn’t be too late.
0905 hours Zulu (0805 hours Zone)
Air Operations Center
Keflavik, Iceland
“Snowman, Snowman, this is Watchdog. Snowman, this is Watchdog.
Respond, please. Over.” The radio voice was heavily spiked with static, but
even through the distortion Major Peter Kelso could hear a note of
desperation.
“Watchdog, Snowman. Can you boost your signal, over?” Kelso replied.
Watchdog was an orbiting E-3A AWACS Cape Straumnes on the northern coast of
Iceland. There shouldn’t have been that much static.
“Snowman, this is Watchdog. We’re already on maximum. Heavy jamming on
radar and radio. Repeat, heavy jamming on radar and radio. Do you copy,
Snowman?”
“Roger, Watchdog,” Kelso told him. “Do you have any radar contacts?
Over.”
“Cannot confirm … Wait one! Wait one!” There was a long pause before
the message resumed. “Snowman, Watchdog. Flash priority, Warning Red. We
have multiple contacts. Multiple contacts! Zombies are inbound, repeat
zombies inbound bearing between zero-zero-zero and zero-one-zero. Range is
two-five-zero November Mikes. Angels two. Speed is four-five-zero.” The E-3
crewman paused again. “Snowman, we now make at least twenty-four zombies
inbound, maybe more. Radar interference makes count unreliable. Over.”
Kelso read back the figures for confirmation even as his hand moved to
hit the button that sounded the alert. Klaxons began to blare around him.
This was the situation Keflavik had rehearsed for thousands of times in
the past. But this time it was real.
Through the windows overlooking the base Kelso could see men in motion on
the field, pilots racing for their F-15 interceptors and ground crewmen
hastening through their paces in an effort to get the planes aloft. Activity
inside Air Ops had intensified as well, as controllers took their positions
and started trying to find order in the middle of chaos.
“Watchdog, do you have an India Delta on the zombies? Over.”
“Snowman, our best estimate is Badgers, repeat best estimate is Tango
Uniform One-sixers.” Kelso nodded at the words. The Tu-16 family of Soviet
aircraft, “Badger” in the NATO lexicon, dated back to the same era as the
ubiquitous Bears. The turbojet bomber had been adapted to a wide variety of
functions, from missile carrier to ECM platform, recon aircraft to tanker.
Recon planes and tankers didn’t travel in packs of twenty or more. Each
one of those Badgers could carry a pair of air-to-surface missiles and a
conventional bomb load as well, more than enough to ruin all four of
Keflavik’s runways.
Outside an F-15 screamed past the windows as it took off. The 57th
Fighter Interceptor Squadron, the “Black Knights,” was the only line of
defense for the base. There were six Eagles already airborne, and twelve more
in reserve. If they couldn’t stop the Badgers …
At least they hadn’t used Backfires. The Tu-22 was a supersonic bomber,
far more capable than the antiquated Badger.
“Major!” An enlisted communications man looked up from his console.
“Message from CBG-14. They are tracking twenty Backfires over the Norwegian
Sea. Target uncertain. Could be the battle group-”
“Or us,” Kelso finished. His mouth was dry. The Russians weren’t
fooling around. He raised his voice. “Radio CINCLANT that we’re under
attack. And get every bird airborne … the Orions and those two transports
too. I don’t want anything on the ground when those bastards start shooting!”
0908 hours Zulu (0808 hours Zone)
Badger 101, Strike Mission Gremashchiy
Over the Greenland Sea
“We have been detected, Comrade Lieutenant.”
Lieutenant Stanislav Dzhiorovich Meretskov gave a curt acknowledgment to
the report from the commander of the reconnaissance aircraft. The planes of